


Great Escape

by AndreaChristoph



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Oral Sex, PWVP (porn with vague plot)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 15:01:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18552151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaChristoph/pseuds/AndreaChristoph
Summary: All she wanted was to escape the heartache she was feeling, if only for an hour or two.  His silent support took her by surprise at first.  And yet their weekly routine of a Friday movie night develops fast - sometimes they watch on the TV in the main hall, sometimes in Flynn's room.Things only escalate from there.





	Great Escape

**Author's Note:**

> Honest to god, I didn't intend for this to be smut when I set out writing it. I saw a prompt list that included "playing footsie" and had a fluffy idea and then...Lucy had other ideas.

Their weekly routine of a Friday movie night develops fast.  

It starts with a beer and silence, lending support just by being there.  He falls asleep eventually, exhausted by the long day spent chasing down three sleeper agents on his own.  She isn’t sure whether to wake him or how he’d react to it, and so instead gently takes the empty bottle from his loose grip and sets it on the table, then covers him with a blanket woefully small for a man of his stature.  She dwells a moment, her head cocked as she silently examines his face. Though he ever so slightly flinches here and there, no doubt a reaction to whatever nightmares must be plaguing him, it’s still the most peaceful she’s ever seen him.  She sleeps in his room that night, the subtle scent of his aftershave on the pillow, and in the morning is surprised to find she’d slept deeper that night than in the past several weeks.

A week later, after a mission filled with far too many brief glances and smiles between them, she knocks on his bedroom door armed with a bottle of vodka and her laptop.  She lets Flynn pick from the eclectic assortment of movies she’d requested Denise acquire for her. He decides on Dirty Harry, and they both settle side-by-side on his bed, taking shots at the appropriate times and breaking down into quiet giggles (more her than Flynn) as the bottle grows more and more empty.  She wakes up with her head leaning against his shoulder and his head leaning against hers, and she struggles to slip out from under him without waking him up, yet somehow manages it, and slips out of his room with her laptop under her arm just in time to see Wyatt exiting the bathroom and staring her way. She rushes the other direction, her face burning.

The following week they just happen to have a mission on a Thursday, and they’re on a stakeout, watching for two sleeper agents to return to the apartment across the road, when Flynn asks her, “So what will it be this week?”  She’s taken off guard and stares at him, saying nothing, and Flynn swallows and looks away, silent from then on.

“Sabrina,” she says as Flynn is recovering from having tackled one of the sleepers to the ground and attempting to tie the man’s wrists together behind his back.  He looks up at Lucy as he does so, confused, but as he sees her smile it dawns on him.

That night he makes popcorn and tells her a story of his previous life.  Iris would fall asleep curled up next to him in the recliner, a giant bowl of popcorn held loosely on her lap, and he would always pull her into his arms and finish the movie while holding her - not because of any real interest in the film, but because it gave him an excuse to hold his baby like he had when she was a fragile bundle he was terrified he would somehow break.  Her peaceful and innocent face was the spitting image of his mother’s. He couldn’t wait to see her grow up to be as kind and intelligent as his mother had been. He couldn’t have known that a year later that bright future would be ripped out of his hands. 

Some nights he dreams of walking Iris down the aisle.  It’s only once he lifts her veil to kiss her cheek that he wakes up.  He never sees her face. Not even in dreams could he get her back.

It’s his turn to pick again, a few nights after she returns from 1981.  She appears in his room as he’s busy reading, holding her laptop against her chest.  They’d had a discussion the night she’d returned from the mission and Lucy had avoided him since, having been more than a little perturbed at having her future foretold and not understanding the meaning of any of it.  Flynn had given her space she obviously needed, and when he looks up to see her offering him a tiny conciliatory smile, he can’t help but smile in return. He watches her setting up her laptop on the desk from his usual position seated at the head of the bed, grinning at the scowl that appears when she can’t seem to track down the file, and he has that familiar fluttering in his chest that he’s starting to get used to.  This week he chooses The Godfather. Lucy nods off almost insultingly early in the movie, yet Flynn can’t bring himself to be annoyed as he looks down at her leaning her head once more against his shoulder. This time she wakes up with her head resting against his chest, as Flynn has one arm loosely wrapped around her shoulders. And this time she opts to instead lay her head back down and doze until Flynn stirs beneath her cheek.

She’s starting to notice she sleeps best when he’s near.  She isn’t sure what to make of that, and so declines to tell him.

The Hepburn theme continues into the following week as Lucy then picks Roman Holiday.  Flynn doesn’t mind - whether or not the movie is decent doesn’t particularly matter to him when he’s more interested in her company.  They’re alone in the main hall that night, the rest of the group having retreated to their rooms hours previous, and Lucy produces a blanket from somewhere that she unfurls and lays over the both of them, scooting closer to Flynn on the couch so they can both fit.  Or at least she tells him as much, despite how obvious it is to Flynn that she has plenty of room under the blanket regardless. He doesn’t fight her (he’s not a self-sabotaging idiot after all...usually, anyway) and it’s halfway through the movie that he notices the soft touch of her foot against his ankle.  Though he doesn’t respond to it at first - mainly because the brief touch is enough to short circuit his brain - he shifts his foot just as she’s about to pull away. And just like that, the two of them end up cuddled beneath the blanket playing footsie like a couple of teenagers. Neither says anything, but Flynn has to fight to keep a smile off his face and his eyes on the television.

The Friday following the Footsie Incident, Lucy once more arrives at his door, this time decked out in her pajamas.  She looks messy and yet somehow painfully beautiful. He already knows what they’re going to watch, as he’d carefully decided a few days previous; they’d had a mission saving the life of Steve McQueen, of all people, prior to getting his start in the film industry.  Lucy had fumbled her way through every interaction with the man (which Flynn didn’t understand in the least; the man was far more average looking in person than he had been in any of his numerous films) and she later admitted quietly to Flynn that McQueen had been a childhood crush of hers.

As soon as he says the title, Lucy blushes.  They continue their usual routine, this time setting the laptop up on a shelf lining the wall opposite the one the bed was against.  Lucy lays down on the bed facing the screen and pats the mattress behind her. Flynn crawls over her and lays on his side next to Lucy, his head propped on one hand to see the screen over her.  He’s not sure at what point during the movie his other hand drifts down to rest on her hip, but it’s roughly halfway through that he feels Lucy touch his hand, and he shifts slightly away from her as her touch does uncomfortable things to his body he’d rather she  _ not _ notice.  That is, until she gently guides his hand forward, down over the curve of her hip to the waistband of her pants, and she pauses there.  He can hear her swallow as she continues watching the movie in silence, and he can faintly hear her breathing just a fraction harder than before, though she’s obviously doing her best to look nonchalant.

Flynn looks down at Lucy and she glances back at him from the corner of her eye.  “You don’t... _ have _ to...I just...you know, if you...felt like-”

He doesn’t wait for her to finish stumbling over her words, instead slowly slipping a hand gently beneath the waistband of her pants, and he swallows as he realizes she has nothing on beneath them. Lucy gasps quietly at the feel of his cold hand against her skin.  He trails one finger between her folds and finds her already wet, and she makes a small sound of yearning that threatens to drive him completely insane. Flynn uses his other hand to draw her hair back, then leans down to kiss her neck gently as he slowly slips a finger inside her.

Her breathing is heavier almost immediately and she leans back against his chest, her hips arching into his touch, and he knows she can now feel him hard against her; this time he doesn’t opt to move away, and neither does she.  Her own hands she busies unbuttoning her shirt, and again there’s nothing underneath. She takes his other hand and guides his free arm around her opposite side, resting his hand over her breast; he can feel the nipple harden against his cold palm, and Lucy again moans in that quiet way that gets an immediate reaction out of certain parts of him.

He increases the pace at which his finger slips in and out of her, his thumb softly stroking her clit, and she breathes faster still, squirming beneath his touch.  She finally turns her head to face him, her cheeks flushed while she looks at him with a sort of hunger he’s never seen from her before, and he leans down to kiss her, the touch of her tongue against his making him deepen the kiss immediately.  She breaks the kiss to gasp as he slips a second finger inside her, the gasp turning into another soft moan, and he leans down and swirls his tongue lightly over her nipple before gently biting, and he can feel that she’s reaching a breaking point, every breath now a gasp as she writhes under his touch.

He finally feels her tighten around his fingers and she puts a hand to her mouth to stifle a loud moan as her hips buck against his hand.  He waits until she’s done riding the waves of her climax before he withdraws his hand. Though he’s almost painfully hard at this point, he just watches Lucy as she catches her breath, eyes closed and forehead resting against his chest.

Once she finally recovers, she flips over to face him fully on the bed.  “Lay back.” Her voice is thick with desire, and Flynn does as instructed, watching with curiosity as she maneuvers to the end of the bed.  And then her hands are on his belt, undoing it, quickly followed by the zipper on his jeans, and Flynn stops her before she can go any further.

“Lucy, you don’t need to-”

“Hush,” Lucy murmurs, ignoring him to instead tug his jeans down over his hips, and Flynn immediately stops fighting her and lifts himself up off the mattress to allow her to do so.  She can see the outline of his hardness through the fabric of his boxers and the moment she touches him there he makes a strangled noise of frustration and desire that he quickly suppresses.  Lucy looks up at him, her hand massaging him through the fabric. “Has it been…?”

“Four years,” he says, his voice quiet.  

Lucy raises her eyebrows.  No wonder she has this effect on him.

She eases his boxers down to his knees as well, and he shivers as he’s exposed to the cold air.  Lucy grips him with one hand and, before he can protest or indeed react at all, she leans down and takes the length of him in her mouth.  Flynn arches his hips into her touch, making a noise somewhere between a growl and a moan, and grips the mattress with both hands as she slowly withdraws, dragging her tongue along the shaft and flicking it over the head as she looks up at him again.

_ “Fuck,” _ he whispers, eyes shut tight, and Lucy tugs one of his hands away from it’s death grip on the mattress to instead tangle in her hair.

“Don’t hold back,” she murmurs, again leaning down.  Flynn complies, gripping her hair (though not too tightly) as her head bobs up and down, working him closer and closer to the edge.  He whispers her name a few times, his voice dissolving back into a soft moan each time, and he unconsciously follows her movement. As he inches closer to finishing, Lucy angles her head slightly and this time takes the entire length of him, and this time it’s Flynn’s turn to stifle a loud groan with his hand.

“Lucy I-...I’m going to-”

She shakes her head and continues her ministrations, and Flynn practically bites through his own lip as he finally comes, his body jerking as it hits him with so much force that he thinks he may have blacked out for a second.  Lucy stays in place, working him through it, swallowing as he settles finally and wiping her mouth on her sleeve as she sits up.

She crawls up the bed to rest in the crook of Flynn’s arm, nuzzling her face against his neck while a hand drifts to caress his cheek.  Flynn gathers her closer with both arms, holding tight as if he’s afraid she’ll slip through his fingers. She feels safe there, safe and protected and-...

Oh.

_ Oh. _

“Sorry,” she says quietly, now tracing circles on his chest.  “Not exactly the most romantic of first times.”

Flynn looks almost startled at her saying that and gives her a questioning look as she leans back and meets his eyes.  

Lucy hazards a tiny smile.  “If it’s alright with you,” she says, leaning up on one arm so they’re face to face and the hand on his chest drifting beneath his shirt so she can drag her fingers through his chest hair, “we should probably confine movie night to your bedroom from now on.”

From now on.  The words short circuit his brain somewhat and he opens his mouth to respond but no sound comes out.  Lucy presses a kiss to the corner of his lips.

“If you...want to, that is.”

Flynn finally gets a hold of himself and cups the back of her head to pull her into a full-on kiss.  He feels that burn in his stomach again as he tangles his fingers in her hair, not just desire, but something else.  Something stronger, something more frightening. 

“Can’t wait,” he says as they part, pulling her close again and pressing a kiss to her forehead.  He has no idea what to make of the change in their dynamic, no idea what this all means, but for now, the feel of her body pressed against his as she drifts off into a content sleep is enough.

The following week, they skip the movie.


End file.
